"Zar, get up, we're going to be late."

Just a few more minutes.

"Zar, wake up," she said as she shook my body.

Come here.

"What? Zar, what are you trying to do?"

Come here, you.

"Okay, fine. Why do I have to get on the bed?"

I love your shampoo.

"Hey Zar, that tickles. Haha, hihi, stop, haha, stop smelling me. This feels weird."

Mm, you're so soft.

"Hey, where are you touching? Ahn, don't touch there. Guess you're the kind who's bold in the morning, huh? Ohh, didn't know that feels good."

I want to touch you everywhere.

"Zar, you have to stop, your mom can come in any minute."

Why is my mom a problem?

"Ohhhh, that feels good. Ahhn, stop, you're making me feel funny. We shouldn't do this."

Why not? We're married.

"Zar, stop! That's going too -hnnn- too far. Stop."

Come on. It's weekend

"No... I said STOP!"

I felt myself flying through the air, before my head hit something solid and I fell to the floor. I opened my eyes, confused, looking around while feeling like there was a gooseegg on my forehead. For awhile, my dream and my reality overlapped, making me wonder why my wife of 6 years kicked me out of bed. That was before I recognized 'my wife' was none other than my friend Arifah, the schoolgirl and that this bed wasn't my marriage bed, but the bed that I spent my childhood sleeping on. I wondered briefly if I went back in time.

"Arifah, why are you on the bed, and why is my son on the floor? Arifah why are you blushing?" my mom came in, without knocking, and looked at both of us confusedly.

"Nn-nothing," Arifah said as she turned away.

My mom looked at me, "Rep, what did you do with someone else's daughter just now?"

"I didn't do anything!" I replied defensively, "In the first place, why is Arifah even on my bed?"

My mom seemed to think and apparently she agreed it was peculiar. "That's a good question. Why are you on the bed, Arifah?"

"I-I was trying to wake him up. He wouldn't wake up," Arifah answered.

"That is a logical answer. Waking you up on a holiday is always a pain. That was why I asked her to wake you up. Anyway, let's go down, Arifah. Breakfast is ready," my mother said dismissively.

"Um, okay," Arifah said as she got up from the bed, her skirt askew.

"Arifah..." my mom called the moment Arifah walked past her.

"Yes, Datin?" Arifah cowered a little under my mom's gaze. Arif always called my mom Datin, which was her title, as the wife of a Dato', Malaysia's non-hereditary nobility title. As Arifah, she continued this habit despite the fact that my mom repeatedly told her to just call her 'aunt'.

"Nothing happened on the bed?" my mom inquired.

Arifah's face coloured redder, "Nothing happened." Then she ran off.

My mom then turned to look at me and knitting her brows together, she said, "Rep, I don't want any girl coming here telling me she's carrying your baby out of wedlock."

"Th-that won't happen!"

My mom squinted her eyes as she said, "Make sure it does not and will not happen," as she went out of my room.

Ten minutes later, after a short bath, I went down to a waiting breakfast. My father was surprisingly absent. He was always around on a Sunday morning. Sitting there at the dining table was my mom and Arifah, both already halfway to finishing their meals, which was a mix of nasi lemak with copious sambal ikan bilis and fried noodles. We Malaysians love a breakfast consisting of lots of calories, lots of fat and lots of oil.

Nasi Lemak literally means Fat Rice, though most would argue that you can't get fat just from eating Nasi Lemak. A nasi lemak without sambal is often considered as not a nasi lemak.

I took a seat on my usual chair at the dining table, which was right next to Arifah, since that was the chair Arif used to sit on when he came over. Normally, Arif would be stealing some of my food even when there were a pile of it just in front of us. But since he became Arifah, it seemed like he became a lot more ladylike, at least in front of my mother. Her mother must have been drilling lady training into her since the day she became a girl. That would be half a year ago.

"Thanks, Nina," I said to my 19 year old maid as she put a cup of coffee in front of me.

"You're welcome," Nina said as she refilled Arifah's tea. Nina obviously didn't recognize Arifah, otherwise, Nina would have asked her if she's grown up yet. It was a passing joke, from the time when Arifah was still Arif.

My father came across Nina, her mother and her sisters while he was doing a survey of the state's rural areas. My father took pity on their family after the death of Nina's father due to a hit-and-run and offered them to work in our home to replace our Indonesian maid. That Indonesian maid made up a sob story of how her children in Madura was suffering some illness and asked for advance on her wages. She took her first and second wage after working for two weeks and ran off. My father used his influence to find her cozying up with her boyfriend and deported both their asses out of the country.

Nina's mother on the other hand was very reliable, and so was Nina. They were both great cook and very good housekeepers. Nina was also quite easy on the eyes. Back when Arif was a boy, he kept teasing Nina about going on a date with him, to which Nina would tell him he was too young for her and told him to grow up first. It was quite a good arrangement for everyone involved. Nina and her mom cook the meals and manage the house 6 days a week while my father gave them a house in the nearby low-cost neighbourhood and paid for Nina and her sister's education up to junior college in addition to their monthly wages for as long as they stayed.

"So what's the deal with waking me up so early on a Sunday?" I asked as I nibbled on my karipap (curry puff), a kind of Malaysian snack which were often eaten at any time of day.

"Sunday?" my mom looked at me like I just grew horns, "Are you still dreaming, my dear son? It's a Friday."

"Friday? But it's already 8 in the morning. Then why aren't we... shit! We're late for school!" I scrambled to my feet, drained the hot coffee into my gullet and froze when both my mom and Arifah giggled.

"Sit down, Zar," Arifah pulled me back down by my shirt, "It's school holiday. I'm willing to bet you have forgotten what you promised me yesterday."

"School holiday? Why?" then I suddenly remembered something, "Oh right, we're going on a school trip this evening. Oh shit! I haven't packed!"

"You always left it for the last minute. I'll help you pack later, I've gotten good at this packing stuff," Arifah patted my arm.

"Thanks for the offer, but why are you here so early in the morning, Arifah?"

"Just as I thought," Arifah stated, "You forgot. And you kept boasting that you have perfect memory."

"My brain doesn't work so early in the morning. What did I forgot?" I asked as I finished the curry puff I was eating.

"You promised to take me shopping, you know, for the school trip?" Arifah said as Nina refilled her tea.

"Oh right," I remembered, "We're going to go buy drinks and snacks for our 3 days 4 nights trip."

"And some other things too."

"Such as what? Panties and bras?" I joked.

Arifah smacked my arm a little loudly, "What are you saying in front of your mother?"

"Oops, my mistake," I said while watching my mom so see if she'd got mad at that as I raised my cup of coffee for a sip.

My mom smiled as she said, "Arifah. Would you do me a favour?"

Arifah turned to look at mom, "Sure, what is it, Datin?" Then she took a sip of her own tea.

"Arifah, would you marry my son?"

Both Arifah and I sprayed our mouthfuls of coffee and tea at my mom in shock. Nina quickly grabbed a clean towel and wiped my mom's face and the front of her blouse.

"Ma!" I coughed.

"Datin, don't joke around like that!" Arifah yelled as she wiped her mouth clean with a serviette.

"I wasn't expecting that. Guess that was bad timing," mom said once her face was dry from a mixture of coffee and tea, "But my dear Arifah, won't you consider it? Don't you think my son's adorable?"

"Umm," Arifah looked conflicted.

"Mom, she's Arif! I'm not gonna marry my best friend," I objected loudly.

"How could you say that?" Arifah interjected with a voice that sounded like she was about to cry, "After what you did to me, after what your hands explored... you were just going to... to... say I'm just your best friend?"

My mom shot daggers at me, "Rep... what did I say this morning?"

"I didn't do anything! I didn't do anything! She's not going to get pregnant, ma!"

Arifah suddenly broke into a laugh. "Pregnant? Me? What did you talk about with him this morning, Datin?"

My mom giggled. "Look at him blush. Anyway, it's been five months since Arif become Arifah. You can't deny she's turned out to be such a beautiful maiden."

"Ma, I am going to disengage my ears so I don't hear anything else and then I'm going to finish my breakfast. Goodbye, noisy world," I said as I tuned out both of them and dug into my plateful of roti canai.

Roti Canai means Slammed Bread, because of the way it's prepared. You make it into balls until it expands into a ball, then you flatten it by slamming your fists into it, then you toss it overhead until it becomes as thin as paper. In this form it's stretchy, but you must take care to avoid the having the paper-thin roti canai from tearing. Making of Roti Canai This is an example. Personally I don't like this kind. There's another method, where the paper-thin thingy gets folded. Unfortunately, most people don't do that anymore, reserving this special technique only for the special roti canais with fillings. It's often eaten with either dhal or curry gravy.

------

An hour later, we arrived at Berjaya Times Square, one of Malaysia's biggest covered shopping mall, It was also the third biggest shopping mall in the world. For premium merchandise, one could find plenty of choices from Level 1 to Level 4. For cheap, everyday items and meals, one could go to the basement levels where everything could possibly be bought and sold, except for real live slave girls. For specialty items, such as Gothloli, Emo, Visual K fashion, as well as hobby and culture such as Gundam models, Yu-gi-oh and Magic the Gathering stores, one can go to the level 5 up to level 8. Anything higher would be for nightclubs, kareokes and offices. At the top level of the shopping area, level 6-8, one could go to the gaming areas, where teacups made everyone barf while roller coasters torment those with fear of heights. The building is also attached to a condominium building as well as a classy monorail system. I've always thought that those who lived here must have been having fun all day.

"So would you tell me why we are here?" I asked Arifah.

Arifah feigned ignorance. "Whatever do you mean?"

"If we want to buy snacks, there are four supermarkets within less than 20 minutes ride from my house. Why'd we have to come to Times Square of all places?"

"It's a secret!" Arifah winked.

"I don't dig secrets. So tell me what we're buying here so we can buy it then get our asses back home. And don't you dare tell me we're only here to window shop."

"I'll buy it later, let's go have a look around first," Arifah said as she locked arms with me and dragged me to the first of the many designer stores that I had to accompany her to for the day.

"Come on, let's go to GSC!" Arifah pulled my elbow after our 8th designer store visit.

"Why?" I asked as my arms became increasingly tired from carrying her purchases.

"They're showing Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince!" she said enthusiastically.

"The movie sucks. They cut so much from the novel. Why do you still insist on watching it?"

"Enough with your purity crap!" she said as she placed her hands on her waist, "The book was too thick, so of course they had to shorten it. Otherwise the single book would've been a trilogy, like the Lord of the Rings. And LotR was still very long individually."

"Exactly! Why didn't they do it like LotR? If they could make a movie that lasts for 3 hours, why not do it to this one?"

"Because, silly," she poked my cheek, "Harry Potter is a children's title. LotR is an adult title."

"I seriously don't see the difference. The first Harry Potter was a children's book, sure, but it has gotten darker and darker with each book. By number 4, there's really no doubt that the book isn't for children under the age of 12 anymore," I said as I started walking ahead of her.

"That's how the author portray a growing boy. Each book represents one year, you know," she said as she walked beside me.

"That's just rationalizing it. I bet Rowling didn't even notice how dark her books became until after she finished. But by then it was too late to change anything anymore, the book was done."

Arifah pouted as she slapped my arm, "Mou! Are you going to watch it with me or not?"

"Where do you think I'm heading to?" I asked.

Arifah looked forward and saw the signboard pointing to Golden Screen Cinemas. Her pout turned to smile. Then she giggled and wrapped her arms around mine.

"Girls!" I cursed.

I stood in a queue with Arifah at the ticketing booth a moment later. I placed the bags down on the floor as I looked at the flat-screen monitors displaying the screening time for the day's featured movies. I vaguely recall a time when the old cinemas used to have the screen times displayed on a board and changed by hand. Now it's all digital, manipulated by the invisible hands of electric charge and processing cores. It was while we were looking at the screening time that I realized something.

"Arifah," I called.

She turned around. "Yes?"

"I think we better choose the one at 3pm. I'm not sure what time I'll be back," I suggested.

"What? You're going somewhere? Right while we're on a date?" she appeared offended.

"This isn't a date! Besides, don't you remember what day it is today?"

"What day? It's Friday, isn't it?" she appeared lost in thought, "Not my birthday, not yours either. Ah! It must be treat Arifah a Secret Recipe cheesecake day!"

"Not!" I karate-chopped her lightly on the head, "It's Friday Prayer, remember?"

"Oh right!" she smiled sheepishly, "It's been so long since I've been to one that I forgot."

"You're a girl, you don't have to go to one. Us guys needs to go every week," I said as i pushed the shopping bags forward with my legs as the queue moved forward.

"Alright, 3pm then. Let's buy the ticket first and then you go to your Friday Prayer," she said as she patted my chest.

"What will you be doing then?"

"Oh, this and that. It's a secret."

"You and your secret. Just don't go too far, and keep your phone with you."

"A girl never leaves her phone, that was one of the lessons I learned when I first became a girl, you know. The problem now is," she looked at the shopping bags at our feet, "Where the heck are we going to put these bags at? You can't bring it with you to the mosque, and I don't think I can carry this many bags on my own."

"I'll rent one of the locker space. I think there's some on the 8th floor."

"Oh that'll work!"

I came back from Friday Prayer a bit later than I intended. I wasn't familiar with the route to the mosque and it wasn't like the Komuter train was punctual in the first place. There was still plenty of time before the movie though.

My heart skipped a beat when I read an SMS that just arrived on my phone. "Help, I'm being tailed by a few guys on the basement level near B1-51. Hurry."

I immediately hurried through the crowd, slipping through the other patrons like a ninja while fearing for Arifah's life. I have never heard of people being murdered near Times Square, but mugging and raping was still a real possibility. Either of those could descend to a murder, whether intentional or not. I lost Arif once, I wouldn't lose Arifah too.

When I arrived at the section B1-51, I looked around frantically for Arifah. I must have looked like a dork, looking around corners, under the escalator, around the benches. I finally found her after I rounded the corner leading to the emergency fire escape. She was surrounded by a group of three guys, all looking slightly older than us.

As I got closer, I heard them talking and I breathed a sigh of relief. "They're just lonely guys trolling the malls looking for girlfriends. Not muggers," I thought.

"Arifah," I called her with my manliest voice, "What are you doing here? Come on, we need to get going. Ah, are you her friends?" I ask the three guys.

"Oh, so you're the boyfriend," one of the guys said.

"Yeap!" In this kind of situation I wasn't about to deny it.

"Zar!" she hurried to my side, "They're horrible! Not only are they ugly and they smell bad..."

Wait, what?

"They told me that they'd want to take your place as my boyfriend. How horrible for filthy little trolls to try getting along with their betters. Did I mention their breaths smell like they haven't brushed their teeth for, like, a month?"

"Hey, Arifah, what-"

"Damned you, little girl! To think you were so demure when you're on your own. Now your boyfriend's here, you suddenly turn into a foulmouthed little bitch!" one of them, apparently the biggest of them, spat.

"Hah! As if you can beat my boyfriend. Not only you lose in class, looks and intellect. You also lose in strength, and there's three of you. Pathetic!"

"Why, you little bitch! I'm gonna throw you on my lap and spank you because obviously your ma and pa never did!"

I took a step forward, between him and Arifah. "Friend, please. She's just a silly, rambling little girl. We'll just turn around and leave, we'll be out of your hair right now."

"Hah! If you're a man, do as you say! Of course, a coward like you wouldn't dare pick fights with my boyfriend. He'll wipe the floor with-"

"Arifah!"

"That's it, you bitch!" he lunged as he attempted to grab Arifah's arm.

In response, I quickly positioned myself into a brawling formation, taking into account his movements and his big frame. With one quick movement, my right fist connected with his neck while my left elbow punched through his solar plexus. In less than a second, he fell to the floor in pain. The other two guys looked in shocked, before they took lunged at me. The first guy was easy enough, I deflected his fist to the side before throwing a punch that buried into his stomache.

The second one was a bit of a problem. Obviously, he had studied Silat before and after his first attack failed to connect, he repositioned himself to face me properly. I studied his form and I could tell that it was firm, even if I try to trip him, it wouldn't work. His kekuda looked very strong. So the only moves I could use on him would be either a well-timed fist or Judo-style throw. Then unexpectedly he took a step forward, and I took that opportunity to deliver a twirling high backkick at his face. He managed to block it with both arms, but the force was too strong for his unfortified move that it threw him to the wall. While he was still in a daze, I took a step forward and palmed his chest with a strong enough force to make him gasp for breath.

I relaxed my body as I watched their two bodies slump to the floor. Neither of them were dead, of course. They weren't even unconcious. Also, I made sure that the only places I hit were covered by clothing. It would invite a damned lot of questions if they came out with bruises on their faces.

"Zar!" came Arifah's warning as I felt a towering aura behind me.

I turned around and delivered a strong punch at his stomache, while at the same time, Arifah knocked him out with a karate-chop from behind just a little below his neck. He fell down quite quickly. I wasn't expecting him to recover so quickly as the move I made was originally the moved Arif once hit me with. It hurt real bad. Now however, it seemed like there was one who actually fainted.

As the two other guys groaned in pain, I fixed my shirt while Arifah flicked her long hair. Then, as if on cue, we both said, "Know your place. Don't look down on school champions!"

That was actually our (Arif and I) motto whenever we beat up bullies or thugs. We used to practice daily to get it timed perfectly, often ended up brawling with each other when we weren't in sync. Amazing how after half a year we could still do it perfectly. Of course we then we ran from the scene. When I asked her later, she admitted that she could've taken on all of them herself, but she just wanted to see how I would fare against them. She made things clear that I had weakened a lot since Junior High.

------

"Toothbrush and toothpaste??" Arifah asked.

"Checked!" I answered while throwing the items into my backpack sidepocket, pushing it between some other toiletries.

"Sportswear?"

"Checked!" I answered as I rolled it and shoved it into the main compartment of my backpack.

"Me?"

"Che-hey! Stop playing around! We're gonna be late."

"And whose fault was it? I know I offered to help you pack, but that was under the assumption that you already chose what to bring. Why'd I have to spend half an hour going through your boxers?"

"Stop your nagging, come on!" I said as I grabbed my backpack and ran down the stairs two at a time followed closely by Arifah.

"Oh, there you are," my mom said once I was at the bottom of the stairs, "How long will you be gone again?"

"4 nights and 3 days, ma. We're going, now," I stated as I took her hand and kissed it.

"See ya later, auntie," Arifah said as she also took my mother's hand and kissed it.

In Malaysian culture, it's good manners for those younger to kiss the hand of those older when meeting or departing. Between close family members, this is a no brainer. Such manners are also expected among relatives. Among strangers, avoid doing this unless you know the other person is incredibly traditional, for which s/he will appreciate the gesture. If you do not know the person at all, do not do this at all. Same goes if the other person is a stranger of opposite sex, you don't want the embarrassment of your hand being ignored. In a society where public display of affection can get you a warning or thrown in jail in worse cases, like Malaysia, kissing hands and hugging is about all you can do to show your affection. You also sometimes do this for special occasions, such as Aidilfitri, when begging forgiveness or when showing respect, but those are the exceptions, watch what people do if you want to do it, but if you're a foreigner, you can be forgiven for not doing it.

Then my mother said something that made us both blush. "It feels like you're both already married. Would you call me momma as well, Arifah?"

"Ma!"

"Umm, haha, can't do that," Arifah said as she bolted past me and wore her shoes as she ran.

In Malaysia, and most other traditional asian countries (Japan and Indonesia, for example), people don't wear shoes in their homes. It's considered very rude. So guests will need to take off their shoes outside the door and arrange it neatly. Some areas of the country take this a step further and the parents the person you want to marry will look at how you arrange you shoes to determine your upbringing and if you would be good for their child. In Japan in comparison, if you want to commit suicide, it's good manners to take off your shoes and arrange them neatly to the side before doing the deed.

"Geez, ma!" I said as I ran after Arifah, who had by then waited next to my bike. We were going to ride to school, where I would park my bike on school grounds before we both board the school bus that will take us to our campsite.

While I was wearing my shoes, I could hear my mother giggling. She said, probably to herself, "That is just so adorable."

------

I stood bewildered at the lobby of a hotel-kind of place. The plaque at the front gate called this place Meru Valley Resort. I had never heard of this place, ever.

"Teacher," I called one of the teachers, Form 4-B homeroom teacher, Mr. Lokman, simply because he was the closest, "Why are we here? I thought we're going camping?"

"Camping? What Form are you? Camping's for Form 2 and 3. Didn't you read the pamphlet?" he scolded.

"Yea, I got one from the student office last week."

He glared at me as he ushered the other students to get in line. "You took the one meant for either Form 2 or Form 3, no doubt. For Form 4, it's Fitness and Bonding Camp. For Form 5, it's Study Camp. All Forms do their school trips at different places. For this year, we're doing Form 4's Camp here. I'm just so glad we made reservations a year in advance. The new rate for just this weekend is astronomical. Now please, get into your line, by class, please."

Unlike in American schools, where students take classes based on their preferences and schedules, Malaysian schools are more rigid. Malaysian schools, like Japanese schools, separate students by classes for the whole year. With the exception of elective classes, such as Moral/Islamic Studies, Home Improvements, Farming and Home Economics, all students go to the same classes as the other students in their classes using the same schedules for the whole class. So if you got thrown into a class that you don't like, you're stuck with it for the whole year, though you can request for a transfer to another class, which will most likely be ignored by the teachers. At the end of the year, you take a final exam and it determines the class you'll be in next year. It is entirely possible for close friends with similar exam results to enter the same classes from Standard 1 to Standard 6(primary school) up to Form 3 (junior secondary). They will most likely separate upon entering Form 4 (Secondary) as students start taking specializations at Form 4. But those who enters the same class at Form 4 often continues being in the same class at Form 5. Form 6 (high school, two years) is optional, students can opt for matriculation, preparatory, foundation or jump straight to university instead.

Arifah was waiting for me when I arrived at my line, "Where have you been? She's been calling your name twice now!"

Just then the teacher called my name and I answered, the teacher looked visibly relieved. "Why didn't you tell me we're going to this golf resort? I thought we were going camping."

"Didn't you read the pamphlet?"

"I got the wrong pamphlet."

She giggled. "Now you understand why I took out the camping stove from your backpack?"

"Shut up."

It was about time too, because after doing a rollcall for the whole class, our line finally moved on to getting our room assignments, two at a time. I was standing next to Arifah and didn't notice anything wrong with this picture. That was, until my turn for room assignments came.

"Arif bin Mohamad Zafri and Ahmad Zarif bin Amir Hamzah?" our homeroom teacher, Ms. Ayu, asked.

"It's 'binti' now, teacher," Arifah corrected, "And I'm called Arifah now".

I believe I don't need to mention that 'bin' is for males and 'binti' is for females?

"Oh, I see. I'll just make some amendments here..." then she froze.

Then Ms. Ayu looked at Arifah and she broke into sweats. "Eh?" her voice trembled.

"What's wrong, teacher?" Arifah asked, sounding as if she was starting to get worried.

"Haaaa..." Ms. Ayu was really sweating now, her collar was damp with sweat.

"Is... there a problem?" I asked.

"HEAD TEACHER!!!" Ms. Ayu screamed as she ran for Mrs. Kartini, who was Head Teacher for Humanities Department. She was also the main coordinator for this trip.

Arifah and I looked at each other, wondering what the heck was going on. When the teachers left everything and convened at a hidden corner, we became suspicious. So we telepathically agreed to snoop in on their conversation and together, we tiptoed close to them.

"This is a big problem. What should we do?" I heard one of the teacher, a woman said.

Then I heard the panicked voice of our homeroom teacher Ms. Ayu, "This is all my fault! I totally forgot to change her gender for the school trip!"

"What's done is done, Ayu. The question now is, how do we solve this. Any ideas?" one of the male teachers said.

"Obviously we have to change the room assignments. This won't do!" another female teacher said.

A different male teacher argued. "But how? All the room assignments have been handed out. We can't just change it now. Besides the matter is still not solved even if we change the room assignments."

"And we can't get any extra rooms right now either," the first male teacher added.

"Yes, I already asked the receptionist just now, all the other apartment units has been fully booked. They said it's because of tomorrow's event," said the voice that sounded like Mrs. Kartini, the head teacher.

"Yea, amazing coincidence that the dates that we booked a year ago coincided with that event this year," said another female voice, I couldn't tell who's who anymore.

One of the female teachers said, "Can't we, like, ask them to add a bed-"

"No, I already asked, they said there's a strict maximum two bed a room policy. They won't add another bed even if we paid extra," one of the male teachers answered.

"Maybe it's just me, but don't you guys find this situation familiar? Like it has happened before, not in our school, but another school?" the first male teacher mentioned.

The was a long silence.

"I see, we can do that too," one of the male teachers said.

Mrs. Kartini agreed. "The situation is not just similar. It's exactly the same. Since there is a precedence, we can minimize the backlash if we take exactly the same methods."

"Wait what? So this can be solved?" Ms. Ayu sobbed.

"Not solved, actually. We'll still need to answer to the school board, but since it's only Ayu's second year, not to mention that there is a precedence, the school board will not hold us responsible, much. Prepare an apology letter though, just in case," Mrs. Kartini explained.

"So we're doing this, then?" one of the male teachers asked.

"Yes, let's do this," Mrs. Kartini said, "And please fix your makeup before you go meet the students, Ayu. You look like a raccoon."

It was too late for us to hide when the teachers came out from their hidden corner. They noticed us immediately as they walked out. One of the male teachers told us, "Oh you're here. Good, stay here while we fix this problem." Then they proceeded to give all the students their room assignments until in the end, only four of us students were left in the lobby. The other two students were both girls.

"Alright, so here is our problem," Mrs. Kartini pointed at Arifah, "You... aren't supposed to be here."

Arifah looked hurt. "You're going to send me back home?"

"No no. I didn't mean it like that," Mrs. Kartini corrected, "We had a slight clerical error. In our records, you're still a boy and is paired up with your friend here."

At that point we finally understood. "We're sleeping in the same room?!" we said at the same time.

"Yes, and unfortunately because of the event tomorrow, we cannot get you separate rooms right now. Things may change on Sunday, but for now, all we can do is swap room assignments."

"Okaayy," Arifah said, amidst Ms. Ayu's sobs.

"Ayu, please stop crying!" Mrs. Kartini admonished, before getting back to us, "So, after some very confusing room swappings between the teachers and some of the students, these girls will be staying in the same apartment unit with you both," Mrs. Kartini gestured to the two girls beside us.

"Hi there," one of the girls greeted. I recalled that she was Mrs. Kartini's daughter.

"Hey," Arifah greeted back.

I objected, of course. "Wait, you can't do this. It's against common decency for a boy and a girl to be rooming in together. It's like sleeping in the same tent during camping."

"You think we didn't know that already, boy? Apart from sending one of you home, there is nothing else we can do at this point. That being said," she glared at both of us with a look that said we better listen well, "Do NOT do anything indecent in the room while you're here. I will NOT accept any excuses if I found that you've been enjoying INTIMATE moments in the room. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"Uh yes," I said.

"Okay," Arifah said.

"Good, now take your bags and go get settled in your apartment unit," Mrs. Kartini handed us each a pair of keys, "Another thing, DO NOT tell anyone else that you're rooming together for whatever reason. To be safe, just don't tell them your apartment number. Or just tell them you're rooming with the teachers. That will keep them quiet. Understood?"

"Understood," we answered.

"Good. Go get settled. Dinner at Hall 2, casual clothes, but NOT tank tops and short shorts, Ema!" Mrs. Kartini said.

The other girl, whom I assumed was Ema, simply giggled and headed off to one of the elevators.

The teachers took off to do their own things. Mrs. Kartini went back to the reception counter to ask a few things. The other teachers went their separate ways, I supposed to rest before dinnertime.

I asked Arifah. "Well, shall we go to our room then?"

Arifah blushed before she made a grin. "Our room... you made it sound like we're going to do xxx things, then more xxx things before we finished it with more xxx things."

"Geez, you're so crude!"

"I was a boy too, you know. I know what boys like to do with cute little things like me. But I'd prefer if it's after an expensive and luxurious candlelit dinner" she said coyly.

"Enough of your daydreams, Miss Romantic. Come on," I pulled her hand the moment the elevator door opened.

*This chapter has been split into two parts because it ended up being too long. Chapter 3 for day one, Chapter 4 for day 2. Please bear with me. As always, all comments and feedbacks are welcomed. Praises helps me write faster while constructive criticisms helps me write better.